A Hunter's Doctor
by LoveStoryMermaid
Summary: What happens if there was a doctor hunter's go to who knew all about the supernatural, but when Dean's injured on an unusual hunt, Sam first has to get through traffic to get there.
1. Traffic

**A Hunter's Doctor**

"Dean!" Sam called. He ran to his brother who had been flung across the room, barely giving another glance to be sure the thing was really dead this time. The first time they had thought it was dead, it simply morphed from the young blonde woman it took up for appearance to its real clawed beast form.

From the time Sam had managed to get the creature off his brother, Dean had managed to get himself halfway into a sitting position and made the remark, "What a bitch! What the hell even brought it here? I thought it was supposed to be Greek!"

"Doesn't matter right now. It's dead," Sam replied, tired, worried, and frustrated as he reached his brother, "Next time, by the way, don't chat it up."

"I was trying to distract it," Dean protested and waved off Sam's worried look, insisting as he went to get up, "I'm fine, Sam. You okay?"

With the slightest roll of his eyes, Sam answered, "I'm fine." He pushed his brother back down to the ground. Dean had a nice gash just above his eye, but Sam's biggest concern was his brother's right leg, which had three long, jagged, and bleeding claw marks, with…Sam couldn't help, he had to laugh. Only Dean. But, he tried to be serious, meaning it as he said, "You, on the other hand, shouldn't move."

"Sam…" Dean started to protest, then looked down, "What…?"

Lodged in his brother's leg was what currently looked like a stripper trying to dive further into the wound. Looking around, Sam noticed two other similar structures hanging overhead that appeared to be decoratively placed around a metal pole, but with a hook or two for jewelry.

"I think it was…" only the fact of just how badly Dean's leg really was screwed up kept Sam from completely laughing, "A jewelry hook," He continued, serious, "Now, the fact you're still talking is good-for once-but, we don't know how close to an artery it is and…"

"Alright, college boy. How about you shut up and get me home and we'll take care of it."

"You're not listening to me, Dean," Sam replied, going to pick his brother up. He needed to get him to the car with the least aggravation.

Except, he should have known Dean wasn't having any of that, "Whoa! What do you think you're doing?! I can walk!"

"Dean, if that thing moves…"

Dean cut him off, "You're not carrying me."

Sam sighed. Though it was against his better judgment, he knew his brother and the chances of him winning this argument were slim to none without him knocking Dean out. That would solve nothing. It was more important to get help. "Fine." It took all of one second of Dean struggling to get up for Sam to lend him a hand—or arm. Sam knew the glare Dean sent him was more petty defiance of a serious injury than anything and ignored it, particularly as his older brother offered no further protest.

The two of them slowly made their way through the woods, Sam trying not to send too many searching glances to his brother, knowing it would only garner further protest.

By the time, they had gotten to the Impala, Dean had given up on the notion of walking on his own; he was a little paler than Sam would have liked, but still tried to lead Sam to get Dean to the driver's door.

"You're kidding. No way, Dean. I'm sorry. You've already walked on that leg. I'm not letting you drive."

"Sam, I…" Dean protested weakly. He saw the infamous pout on his brother's face and tried once more, "But, you can't…" He sighed, relenting, "Fine. Just don't screw her up."

"I won't," Sam promised.

Driving for a few minutes, it was actually quiet before Dean piped, "Uh, Sam. Where are you going?"

With one breath, Sam answered, "Maggie."

"Maggie? Maggie Delton? No, Sam, she's a hunter. We can take care of this. If Gordon can piece this crap with the demon blood together…Not to mention…"

Sam decided not to argue with his brother over that at the moment, insisting, "She's also a doctor, Dean, and you need help. I think she'll be fine."

Looking ahead, Sam groaned, deciding to barrel through the yellow light at the last moment to at least prevent any other cars getting ahead of him in the traffic they had just reached.

"Oh, good," Dean protested, "You see. What did I tell you? This is why we don't bother. Just turn around now and we'll take care of it at home."

Sam muttered, "A motel's not home."

Dean heard him. "It is to us." He pleaded, "Sammy, come on."

Sam wasn't giving up, "Can you trust me on this or do I need to call Bobby?"

In a microsecond's opening as Sam cut across two lanes of traffic to get to a better lane, Dean answered, "Well I certainly don't trust you to drive!"

Sam laughed for a second before suddenly exclaiming, "Son of a bitch!" The last thing they needed was the downpour that just decided to open up.

"That's my line."

Sam remarked, "You're not the sole owner of it."

"Of course of I am."

Sam just shook his head. As long as his brother was being a wise ass and complaining, Sam could just barely keep himself from panicking, a nagging voice starting to tell him that maybe Dean had been right. But, he knew he wasn't. Either way, they weren't getting anywhere. He jammed the horn, joining in a rising chorus of other cars doing the same.

Dean grabbed his head, "Why did you do that, Sammy? You know as soon as one starts, the others don't shut up."

"Yea," Sam answered, "Like you wouldn't do the same."

"No, I'd be mowing those cars down if they didn't move out of the way," Dean answered a little more weakly than Sam cared to hear.

Sam nodded, "Alright." Forcing himself to trust his driving skills despite Dean's protests and ignore the rain, Sam stomped on the pedal, weaving through the traffic, no longer hearing the horns and fingers directed at him as he surely cut some people off.

Dean grabbed the interior handle of the Impala wide eyed, "Sam!"

"You asked for it," he glanced back over to his brother. His leg was beginning to swell, but so far looked at least free of infection and, for the moment, Dean no longer looked like he was going to pass out.

Dean, of course, noticed his brother's worried glance, "Don't worry about me, Sammy. 'Sides, I've got company, remember?" he glanced at his leg. "I'd really rather you worry about not crashing my baby."

Sam sighed. The jewelry piece was one thing and he really didn't know what to say about that; but to the last line, if he didn't know it was a joke, he'd shoot back about Dean's callous disregard of his own safety. For now, the torrent had abated to a gentle rain and Sam had somehow managed to get past the traffic. That should have been good, except it meant Dean no longer had much to worry about and was looking more and more out of it.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called, "Stay with me."

"Mmhmm."

Frowning, Sam was relieved when he saw the green road sign almost overgrown by the trees on the dirt road turn off that lead to Maggie's.

It wasn't much head's up, but Sam dug out his phone to give her a call, wishing he'd thought of it sooner and praying she wasn't busy. After three rings, she picked up, "Maggie. It's Sam Winchester. I'm two minutes away. My brother, Dean, has got well, something, in his leg after a lamia-it's, yeah, okay-tossed him into a wall.

"Thought they were Greek?" he heard her question.

"Yea, we don't know why it was here. "

"Alright, Sam," he heard her reply, "I'll be ready."

"Thanks, Maggie."


	2. Maggie

Sam made the turn into Maggie's place; as he hurriedly got out to knock on her door, she was already walking out with a purple handled black bag and wheelchair, "Sam?"

"Hey, yeah. Dean's right in the car."

She nodded and Sam went to open the passenger door.

Sam figured he was spared a retort as he watched his brother eye the wheelchair and Maggie. Her green eyes were already scanning Dean over, her wavy, brown hair long enough to come over her left shoulder and brush the dinged, black wheelchair if she leaned over.

No matter, very few things overcame Dean's stubbornness. "I don't need that."

For whatever the reason, Maggie simply smiled when she saw Dean, "Sorry, Dean, but you do. I really can't have that leg of yours jostled any more than it probably has been."

At that, Sam kicked himself. He should have thought to wrap it secure.

"As it is, though, you can stay there while I wrap it," she ordered.

Dean smirked, "Well, doc, all you had to do was ask."

Sam shook his, but Maggie just smiled, "Alright, Sam. On three, I need you to help me get Dean in the chair."

She ignored the older hunter's protest about needing any help as they got Dean in the chair. On the way to the house, she asked, "Is there anything you're allergic to? Any medical history I should know about?"

"No," Dean answered before Sam could.

She nodded, "Good." She turned to Sam, "Alright, Sam, make yourself at home. Dean and I are going to go in the back and I'll take good care of him."

Sam bit his lip, but nodded.

Dean piped, "Yea, Sam, she's going to take care of me."

Sam just shook his head, "I'm sorry."

Maggie smiled, but she knew the look on Sam's face, "Don't worry about it and Sam, don't be too hard on yourself. A lot of people would have tried to pull it out; you were right not to."

Sam just nodded as Maggie turned her attention to Dean, "Come on, then."

Left alone, Sam looked around, noting the differences between Maggie's and what most likely would have been if he'd taken Dean to a normal hospital. For one, Maggie hadn't asked for any forms and something told Sam she wouldn't. Another was they didn't have to make up a story. That was the thing. She was a hunter's doctor. She wasn't surprised by the secretive, pushy, desperate, grouchy, flirtatious attitudes and bizarre injuries with equally bizarre stories she often encountered. At least, that's what Bobby had told Sam about her; and, as often was the case with Bobby, in Sam's eyes he had yet been contradicted.

Bobby had said she had been an ER doc for a while, which probably helped her ability to take everything with a grain of salt. It was as an ER doc, perhaps ironically enough, that she first met the hunting life. A friend of Bobby's, Trent, had made his way to her ER, beat up from a wendigo. She hadn't taken his bear cover story from the drag and wrist marks and eventually got the truth; and, she didn't run. Instead, she resigned after his case and Trent took it upon himself to tell her what she needed to know about hunting. Apparently, she had decided she could do more helping the inevitable injured hunters than hunting herself.

Another difference, in part, was the waiting room. Hospital waiting rooms, he knew all too well, smelled of antiseptic, often held other worried relatives - or worse no one, leaving you with the dim, cold, unfeeling, still walls that all too often became a sick metaphor for why you were there in the first place. Hospital waiting rooms were a desolate prison made from despair and desperation. Maggie's, on the other hand, seemed to offer warmth, comfort, and hope accompanied by a coffee and soft lavender smell. There was a cross hanging over her entryway and Sam wouldn't have been surprised if she had protection symbols placed tastefully around. But, he didn't care to search them out right now—another thing you wouldn't have in a hospital, but was good to have here; one less thing for an injured hunter to worry about. The hard backed lima bean metal chairs of a hospital were replaced with cushioned, chocolate brown ones in a cream colored room. He supposed some could see it as mockery, but to Sam he appreciated the warm comfort it offered. It did nothing to suppress the worry one felt, but somehow it made it a little more tolerable.

Sure enough, as time passed and Sam could no longer hear Dean's retorts, Sam found himself with familiar thoughts. He heard Maggie earlier about doing the right thing about not removing it, but he really should have thought to wrap it before moving Dean anywhere. He supposed it'd just been too ridiculous and he'd just been too worried to think straight. But, he should have known better. He should have been able to make himself focus better than that. Dean would have. Dean always seemed to know exactly what to do. Dean was always the one who took care of him, insisted on it, really. For as much as Dean made the wise cracks, Sam knew it was mostly to try to reassure Sam that Dean was alright. He supposed, he appreciated that to a point, but it also told him that Dean wasn't alright. Behind all the banter, that his big brother was hurt and it was a problem scared Sam more than he would ever tell anyone. Dean was the strong one. Sam took a breath, stopping himself. Dean was strong. Sam trusted Maggie. Dean would be fine. Dean was always fine. He repeated that to himself a few times.

Maggie came out forty-five minutes later with a reassuring smile, "Sam."

Sam stood up, meeting her gaze as she continued, "He's fine, resting right now. I put him under anesthesia to get it out safely. It didn't manage to pierce any major arteries or tear any major muscles, which is nothing short of a miracle," she paused a half-second before continuing, "or a stroke of luck depending on how you want to see it. I cleaned and stitched up the rest of the leg, looked like a bit of the claws might have broken off in it. His leg will probably be a little weak the next few days, but other than that shouldn't take too long to recover from. I'd recommend taking it easy for awhile but, well, I know how it is with hunters. I also went ahead and took care of the other cuts, the one above his eye needed a few stitches, but they'll all dissolve on their own, so no need to make your way back. You're welcome to go see him."

Sam allowed himself a breath and smile, "Thank you, Maggie."

"Of course."

As they walked back, Sam noticed two cabinets, both protected by locks with a protective pentagram: one was clear and held a variety of bottles and medical supplies, the other was steel and he would have bet money served as a can't be too safe weapons vault. No doubt, Maggie was good.

Sam followed as she turned into a room where Dean was just waking up, "Hey, Sammy."

Sam looked his brother over, the cleanest stitches he'd probably ever had over his eye and right leg wrapped far better than Sam could have done, much less the repair Maggie had done beneath the gauze. Well, then, maybe he had done something right. "Hey, Dean. Maggie says you're pretty much good to go."

"Aw, ya kickin' me out sa soon."

Maggie smiled, "Well, not this second. I'd rather you be able to form a normal sentence first, but that shouldn't be much longer."

Sam laughed, "Actually, that might be a lifetime."

"Hey!" Dean protested, but then looked at Maggie and seemed to think again, shrugging his shoulders.

Maggie looked at Dean, "You seem like a nice guy and you know where to find me if it's a hunting problem otherwise, sorry, I've got my own life just fine.

Dean defended, "Can't blame a guy for trying," he paused.

Maggie shook her head, going to a pick up something from the counter. "I didn't know if you'd want this as a souvenir or not," she remarked with a small laugh, holding up the jewelry piece in a plastic bag she had pulled from Dean's leg.

Sam laughed, too, at the expression on Dean's face. "Dude, only you would manage to get a stri…"

"Ever mention it again, Sam…"

In the second, his little brother looked down, though, Dean nodded to Maggie, who simply nodded once with a smile, placing it in Dean's hunting bag.

Within the next half-hour, Maggie was medically ready to let the boys go.

"Maggie, thanks for everything," Sam said.

She nodded with a smile, "Sure. Besides, I like cases that give me something new." She handed Sam a bottle of pills. "Though, you probably have some, these are for any pain if he wants them. I figure you probably know the drill for the bandage." Sam nodded and Maggie turned to Dean, "Any chance I can get you out in the wheelchair? You seem fine, but your leg might still be a little weak."

Dean considered, "I suppose it wouldn't kill me. Consider it an apology for any trouble I gave you earlier."

Before seeing them out, she answered, "Honey, don't worry about it. You're not the first hard headed hunter I've met."


End file.
